


Blade At The Ready

by GoofyGoldenGirl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Study, Fighting, Gen, Manipulation, Pre-Series, Strategy & Tactics, class, fighting lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 12:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12366018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoofyGoldenGirl/pseuds/GoofyGoldenGirl
Summary: Lotor had no desire to hear this lecture. He had heard it thousands of times before...





	Blade At The Ready

The instructor droned on without end. He paced back and forth in front of the group of trainees, crudely brandishing his two practice blades about with each point he made. Whenever he went to emphasize a word his voice grated, creating a sound reminiscent of two gears sliding together. The immature trainees giggled behind their hands. The more serious ones, wanting to create a good impression upon the instructor, struggled to keep a straight face. And Lotor slouched in his spot with a bored look. The crook of his elbow rested on the kneepad of his uniform. His cheek sunk into his cupped hand.

“A good soldier must _always_ be prepared to have his _blade_ at the _ready_ in case of an attack—“ 

Lotor had no desire to hear this lecture. He had heard it thousands of times before. It didn’t need to be drilled into his head like a harvester boring through a blamera. He wasn’t some _fumbling toddler_ who needed to be guided by the hand so he wouldn’t fall. A quick glance at his classmates, and Lotor immediately knew that none of them, not even that Acxa girl who was second to him in this class, matched his strength and intellect. Lotor let out an audible huff and rolled his eyes. Down came the hands and the giggles reached the instructor’s ears. He stopped in his tracks and turned to find the cause of the commotion. Lotor straightened his posture and feigned interest in the instructor’s words. He suspiciously looked over at the group and at Lotor.

“Yes?” Lotor asked.

The giggles commenced once more. Lotor kept a straight face and resisted the urge to scowl at his classmates who had so inadvertently ruined his chance to get away with his actions. The instructor took a step towards Lotor and glared at him. 

“Do you think this is funny _sire?_ ” The instructor’s emphasis on _sire_ was filled with spite. 

“To tell you the truth, I wonder what purpose you’re getting at if all you’re going to do is ramble on about _rules?_ I, if I may, speak for my fellow peers, think that we deserve a lesson that is more _hands on_ and _stimulating._ ”

The room burst into hysterics. Loud guffawing drowned out the instructor’s feeble shouts at the class to calm down. Several rocked back and forth. Fists and palms hit the floor. Lotor let himself relish in the instructor’s loss of control with a smirk. 

“He said **stimulating!** ” Someone shouted.

“BE **QUIET!** ” Spittle flew out of the instructor’s mouth. He gripped tightly on the handles, almost ready to lash out and strike his students. He yelled once more and the class fell silent. 

“If you think you know so much then get up here and demonstrate to the class how to fight in close combat!” The instructor exasperatedly exclaimed at Lotor. 

Lotor did as he was told. As dim witted and simpleminded as his classmates were, he baked in their applause and shouts of encouragement. He went over to the instructor and took one of the blades from him. Someone in the group chuckled. The instructor’s eyebrows furrowed. He rushed over and grabbed the perpetrator, a young, full- blooded, Galran male who wasn’t that much older than Lotor, by the shirt collar.

“ **Teb!** You get over here too!” The instructor dragged the troublemaker over to the front. He pushed the Galran forward and thrust the spare blade into his hands. 

Lotor took a step forward. He titled his head to get a good look at his opponent. The Galran boy was about a foot taller and stockier than him. The awkward grip on the blade’s handle indicated that Teb had not become accustomed to properly handling weapons yet. This brute was going to rely only on his strength alone to make up for his lack of technique. He posed no significant challenge. 

A hush fell upon the crowd as the instructor held a hand up to indicate that the fight would begin. Lotor got into a defensive stance, with his blade at the ready. His opponent held his’ up high and slid his foot back to get ready to move.

“On my count in three ticks. One. Two. Three. **Go!** ”

Teb predictably charged. Lotor dodged the oncoming attack and spun around to block the next one. With a grunt, the Galran boy swung his blade to the left. Then right. Lotor fended off all the hits. He swiveled around Teb’s next set of blows and swiftly skidded back across the floor. It was then he brought his blade out to attack just as Teb lumbered forward again. The blades collided. It would be too easy for Lotor to overpower his opponent now. Teb was concentrating so much on trying to catch him that his chest was left unprotected. His grip was so unsteady that Lotor could just knock his blade out of his hand with one slash to the left. Lotor could ambush from behind or simply swing his foot at the Galran’s legs and watch him topple over. But Lotor wanted his enemy to be completely weakened. So he jabbed his blade through the air at Teb to startle him. Teb stumbled and flailed his arms in the air. He almost fell back but regained his footing. 

“Lotor had—an excellent example of strategy. A good soldier must always be able to think ahead and anticipate his opponent’s next course of action,” The instructor grudgingly admitted, unable to criticize Lotor’s perfect use of technique.

Teb rushed forward again, holding his blade like a club, intending to clobber Lotor with it. He bought his arms down to swing but Lotor ducked in time.

“Teb! That’s not how you hold a blade!” The instructor angrily yelled at him. 

The battle had dragged on far enough. Lotor was getting bored with Teb’s repetitive attacks. He was ready to make the final strike. Teb was beginning to wear out. His blade hand was shaking, dragging his arm down. He panted loudly between each attempted blow. He had exhausted all of his strength and Lotor could just push him over with the dull end of his blade and call it a win. But he wouldn’t be satisfied. Combat was the ultimate demonstration of intellectual and physical prowess, and Lotor wanted to utilize all of his skills. He couldn’t let some blumbering fool or mediocre instructor ruin it for him.

Teb was going to attack again. His stance was wide, his arms out. And as Lotor kicked back his foot to gain speed, a most wicked idea crossed his head. His lips curled up into a smirk. It was a grand plan. Oh yes, it would be a victory that the class would talk about for days. The Teb coward would suffer a crushing blow. And most importantly, he would make a mockery out of that instructor. If word of what Lotor was about to do reached his father, Zarkon would be forced to sack the instructor and search for a more competent one. It would be worth all the consequences he would suffer. 

Lotor was ready. He held his blade straight out and ran. He stopped right in front of Teb and jumped up on the tip of his toes. His left hand clutched at Teb’s hand, he leaned in more, flashing a malicious grin just inches in front of the boy’s face. Teb faltered. And then Lotor—-

There came a collective gasp. The class watched, stunned, as Lotor maneuvered an equally as stunned Teb to the floor. Teb lay sprawled out on the floor. His blade rested about a foot away. Lotor pushed up and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. The boy stared up at Lotor with his mouth agape. He flinched as Lotor sat back onto the boy’s legs.

“Ow!” His voice cracked.

The whole class was silent save for the occasional laughs from the more immature members. Lotor rose to his feet and gave Teb’s leg a kick as he turned towards the instructor. 

“I say that was _stimulating_ enough,” Lotor almost chuckled. 

The instructor was _fuming._ His eyes were bulging right out of his skull, a deep flush colored his purple cheeks, and the grinding sound in his throat began as he opened his mouth to scream:

“LOTOR! LEAVE! **NOW!** ”

“I’ll be glad to,” Lotor said. He smugly picked up his blade and began spinning it about in his hands as he made his way to the door.


End file.
